The Door of Number Twelve
by Brigade
Summary: It had been eight years since Head Auror Harry Potter had last seen Voldemort and it had been a decade since he last saw his godfather Sirius Black. One of those things is about to change.
1. Everyone has Problems

**Hello, everyone! There's been a new story idea that's been nagging me so I started outlining it when I've have nothing else to do. If you read Enveloped in the Darkness, I actually mentioned and gave this story a very rough teaser.**

**Well, I've been hitting snags with EbtD so I decided to let it breathe for a bit. School and work have been getting to me so I am just going to wait until the semester's over before I get back to it.**

**In the meantime...I wrote this chapter and I enjoyed writing it so much that I wanted to post it. This story will not be as long as my other one, but it will be fairly lengthy - over 60k words, at least. Maybe 100k. We'll see. Hopefully this first chapter catches your attention.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Everyone has Problems<strong>

"Sirius! Wait!"

Sirius Black slowed down his furious gait, rolling his eyes briefly before turning around. Remus Lupin ran after him, skidding to a panting stop.

Sirius crossed his arms, giving his friend a baleful glare. "What?"

"James," Remus panted, wincing slightly. "Jamie-he didn't mean that. Honestly! He's just frustrated-you know how he gets when Evans turns him down -"

Sirius scoffed harshly. "He meant it! He always does! I'm sick of it! Evans stands him up and he takes it out on me!"

Remus held up two hands in a placating gesture, his eyes pleading. "I understand. He had no right to…to call you a – a Death Eater. But he's in a sour mood, you know? He doesn't mean it!"

Sirius closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. James did not call him a Death Eater. Not really. But he _insinuated_ it, and that hurt more than anything. All Blacks were evil, after all, and James throwing that at him hurt more than he could say. It did not matter if James meant it or if he was just in a horrible mood. James' words hurt. They made Sirius furious and miserable and every emotion in between.

Sirius did not consider himself a Black, anymore. He was just…who he was. Black was his last name, but Black was different than _Black_, the Most Noble and Ancient House of Craziness. Did James not realize how much being compared to his family hurt Sirius? James was more family to him than the Blacks!

"I know," Sirius muttered softly. "But it still hurts, Moony. It was the worst thing he could've said. It's like he doesn't get me. It's like he doesn't know me at all! I just…you're my family, Moony! Prongs is, too! And Wormtail! The Blacks aren't! Why would he _say_ that to me?"

Remus frowned mightily. "I don't know. He's…James is different from us. He's never…"

"Never dealt with having a rubbish life like us?" Sirius choked back a mocking laugh. "I guess that's a good thing…"

"It's a good thing," Remus agreed cautiously. "But it leaves him a bit…ignorant at times."

The two fifth years stood awkwardly in the seventh floor corridor. It was nearly curfew. Sirius shook his head sadly.

"We need to get back to the Common Room," Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius. "This can all be sorted out. Jamie is probably already kicking himself."

"Yeah," Sirius breathed. "But he's not going to understand what he did wrong. Not really. He'll brush it off like a joke. He doesn't understand what it's like to hate part of yourself. He doesn't get it at all…not like you, Moony."

Remus stared at him, at a loss of what to say. Being a werewolf was even worse than having the worst family in existence, Sirius thought. He patted his friend on the shoulder.

"I need some time alone," Sirius admitted. "I'll be back in the dorms later. I need…I need to think."

"…Alright," Remus sighed. "Just don't get caught out of bed, alright?"

"I know how to Disillusion myself – blimey, Moony, what kind of Marauder do you take me for?" Sirius laughed. Remus smiled. That was what Marauders did. Everything would be okay.

"Just…come find me if you want to talk," Remus said seriously before hugging him. Sirius returned it eagerly. He had never been hugged growing up. Remus had caught on to that a while back and made sure to correct it.

And that was why Remus was his best friend. He really was – Sirius just wondered if Remus knew that.

"Until later, then," Remus withdrew, stuck his hands into his pockets, and left. Sirius watched him go with a sigh.

Being a Black was always going to be a burden, he supposed. He would never escape from it. Someone somewhere would hold it against him – even worse, they would expect him to be like his family. Sirius shuddered as he continued walking down the hall in silence.

The only person in his family with any redeeming qualities at all was his brother, Regulus Black. Regulus was younger than Sirius and had been quite friendly and caring until their father had gotten his hooks into him. With Sirius being such a _massive_ disappointment – a thing that Sirius was highly proud of, thank you very much – Regulus had been saddled with the Pureblood duties of the family.

The saddest thing about it all was that Regulus fell right in line. He went to Slytherin, hung out with the right people, and never even talked to his brother anymore. Sirius felt helpless; what was he supposed to do? How could he save his brother?

'I'm so alone,' Sirius thought glumly, turning around and pacing back the other way. 'Why can't things be easy?'

Voldemort was the obvious answer. The Dark Lord was the sole reason that all the Pureblood families were growing so powerful and outspoken. They had a leader. His family had a leader, approving all the despicable things that they did to their children. None of it was done out of love, either. It was done out of fear.

They would all have to deal with it, one day. Voldemort was growing more powerful. People were disappearing. Things would explode soon. Sirius turned around again when he was getting too close to the Fat Lady. He did not want to see anybody right now. Sirius just wanted…he wanted to go _home_. He wanted to get away from all of this.

But where was home? Sirius almost laughed. He did not have one, really. Maybe he could buy a flat, just so he would have one? He had gold – at least his father had not taken _that_ from him.

"Home's with the Marauders," Sirius whispered softly. "But it's not _home_."

Sirius loved James. He really did. But James had grown up with a family that could not be any more different than his own. As a result, James just did not get it. Not all of it.

Sirius ran his hands through his thick, black hair. Oh well. At least he had awesome hair.

He turned around, set to go back to the Common Room…but there was a door to his right. Sirius frowned, looking to the other side of the hall. He was by the Tapestry of Barnamas the Barmy. This door…this door had never been there before! Sirius stared at it. It was a simple door, just like all the others in Hogwarts. Had it been invisible all this time? What was in there?

Sirius' Marauder senses were itching at his temples. He had to check, right? This was a mystery – the Marauders existed to solve mysteries. And to prank people…they existed mostly to prank people.

Sirius made his mind up pretty easily. He walked up to the door, resisted the temptation to knock, and opened it slowly.

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><p><em>Mr. Potter,<em>

_The following corporations have approached me in the past week seeking endorsement deals with you. As your agent, it is my obligation to inform you of any and all corporations that are interested in undergoing contract negotiations. However, there are only a few deals that I feel are worth pursuing. I have marked them accordingly and have attached their proposed contracts. As you can see in proposal one, article forty-seven, section ninety-six, Mr. Brenley's Balmy Beard Buffer…_

Harry plopped down into his recliner by the fire, sipping hastily at the rim of his glass as his scotch sloshed around. He eyed the bloody letter with distaste before crumpling and throwing into the fire with his free hand. Harry's agent, Angie Robinson, could quite simply go fuck herself. In the past few months, she had had him doing endorsement deals with so many different companies that it made his head spin.

"_You're eight years removed from your victory over You-Know-Who,"_ She had insisted. "_You need to get out and keep your name in the public eye to maintain your celebrity_."

He did not _care_. How could she not see that?

Maybe it was his fault. Actually, it was - he had never said no, after all. But after the last endorsement deal with Elaine's Essentials – a bloody _underwear_ endorsement that Ron had goaded him into doing – well…it had ruined his privacy. They had had him wear this skimpy, red…_thing_…and the response was _awful_. For him, at least. Now, Witch Weekly had named him Bachelor of the Year, the fan mail he had received ever since Voldemort had grown even more ridiculous than before, and now he _literally_ could not go anywhere without being swarmed for autographs or more.

…At least he did not need to buy underwear anymore.

"_That deal made you_," Robinson had told him after Harry had complained. "_Before, you were simply the wizard who killed the Dark Lord. Now…now you're a true celebrity. Now you've got sex appeal. Honestly, Harry, you should be proud. You do have such a lovely body, after all…_"

Now, Wicked Witch wanted him to pose _nude_! _Fuck_ that! Fuck _them_! He was _done_!

Harry downed his scotch in one gulp, scowled at the empty glass, and swished his holly wand. There was a bit of rustling in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place as two more drinks made themselves before soaring to him.

Defeating Voldemort had almost been easier.

Harry let out a slow sigh, taking a generous gulp of his new drink as he stared into the fire. He flexed his fingers restlessly. Ever since defeating Voldemort that day in the Great Hall of Hogwarts…well, Harry was bored. Maybe that was why he agreed to do all of those cursed endorsement deals. Harry's relationship with Ginny had puttered out after just about a year. The magic of their relationship had died with the war. Their romantic endeavors had been fine…but just fine. Simply fine. And that was not enough for either of them.

Ginny was still his friend, though. Thankfully. Losing her friendship would have been horrible.

He was still bored, though.

Shortly after the war, that very same boredom had motivated Harry to enroll in the Auror Academy. Ron jumped at the chance to join him, eager to dispel the same boredom that plagued Harry, and they made it through the academy in one piece. It had been tough – there were plenty of witches and wizards there who would have been quite chuffed to knock war heroes down a peg or two – but they both came out the other side relatively unscathed with shiny new badges in their pockets.

…And then the boredom set in again. At least for Harry. Ron and Hermione had married mere months after Ron had joined the Aurors and they were both quite happy. But with their happiness, Harry's boredom had become solitary. Auror work required very little in the way of dueling, it seemed. Harry could just picture the amount of times he had been dispatched to settle a marital household dispute. They all ended the same: The couple or family would gape at him stupidly, shocked to find _the_ Harry Potter at their doorstep.

And then the problem would be settled. All it took was a celebrity to fake a smile and help them talk it out.

It was _boring_.

Last year, Head Auror John Dawlish stepped down from his role in leading the Aurors for a comfortable, safe desk job. He had never really been a good choice for Head Auror, anyway. Dawlish's reputation as a duelist was in tatters by the end of the war. The search for a new Head Auror, however, had been interesting. The media enjoyed the free content, making guesses at who would become the new face of law enforcement in the Wizarding World.

That choice was left up to the Minister of Magic, however, as it always had been. Imagine Harry's shock when Kingsley Shacklebolt came knocking at Number 12 Grimmauld Place to ask Harry to take the Head Auror job.

Being 23-years-old at the time apparently did not matter; Harry's work in the field was impressive, Kingsley claimed. The black wizard had expressed a desire for a Head Auror that could lead by example.

"There are plenty of people who can handle the paperwork," Kingsley had smiled. "You'll need some training – John and I will be there for you, of course – but there's not a single witch or wizard that I would pick over you."

What could he say? Harry took the job. It solved the boredom, at least for a while. Harry found that he was pretty good at the job, but there was one thing that had surprised him. As the Hear Auror, he was responsible for speaking to the media on behalf of the Aurors. It was something that Harry was already quite adept at doing, but now he was a figurehead. He _was_ the Aurors. He was a brand. And as such, everyone wanted a piece of him.

Harry had hired his agent when the offers and propositions became too much.

To anyone who would look at Harry's life and all of his accomplishments, they would probably claim that he had lived a very fulfilled life so far. Harry would chuckle dryly at that. Yes, he had…but he was still bored.

Honestly, he felt lost, too. Was it not supposed to get better after Voldemort was gone? That was eight years ago and he _still_ was not happy!

Maybe it was the house, Harry mused. Sirius had left him Number 12 when he died ten years ago and Harry had never really felt the need to leave it. Why should he? He already had a house. Not only that, but the house was his last real connection to his godfather. Teddy was his last connection to Remus and Tonks.

Harry downed the drink in one gulp, passively enjoying the haze of the movement. He missed them all so much.

Ten years. It was a long time. And here Harry sat, making no noise and pretending he did not exist. Harry snorted loudly.

Fuck the Dursleys.

He needed to get out here. He needed to get out of the house, out of the country. Something. Anything. Maybe Kingsley would give him an extra vacation. It was still fairly warm outside…

The front door of the dark, decrepit house opened slowly and Harry jolted upright. His mind sobered quickly. Did he not lock that damn door? He always did – and warded it heavily to keep the press and crazies out.

Seventeen-year-old Harry would have immediately rolled behind cover. Twenty-five-year-old Harry, however, sat still and motionless. He had his wand. He had the dueling skills. What he needed was the element of surprise. They would not see him – the chair's back was facing the door.

"Woah," Harry heard faintly as the wooden floor creaked under the intruder's feet. "This is amazing."

Harry stilled his breath, truly making no noise and pretending he did not exist this time.

"…Hello?" The voice called. It was male, Harry noticed, and young. A teenager? "Mum? Dad? Anyone...How did I get here?"

Harry furrowed his brows. Mum and dad? If this was really a teen, well, he had very little to be cautious of. It was time to act.

"Drop your wand," Harry growled threateningly. He heard the floorboards creak sharply – the intruder must have jumped. "You're intruding upon Head Auror Harry Potter's household – drop your wand and you will not be injured."

It was similar to what he was told to say to criminals – Head Auror Harry Potter, drop your wand, all that rot – and perhaps that was how it slipped from his lips so easily. He waited a split second –

"O-okay," The teenager stuttered. "I don't mean any harm. I'm not even sure how I got here."

Harry heard a tentative thud as the boy's wand slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. Immediately, Harry rolled out of the recliner, spinning to a seated crouch to look at his intruder at last.

And his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

The boy was instantly recognizable. He was fairly thin and tall for his age – fifteen? Maybe sixteen? – and the boy's black hair swept gracefully to the nape of his neck. Smooth features, a strong chin…this boy was a Black.

And not just any Black, either. Harry knew this boy. He knew those eyes, crinkled as they were in fear and nervousness. He knew how the teen's laugh would sound, sharp and surprised at first before giving way to deep, rumbling laughter.

"There we go," Harry's voice was much smoother than his frazzled nerves. He had to ask. He had to know for sure. "My name is Harry Potter and I'm not sure how you got into my house, either. What is your name?"

He knew it before the boy's lips opened. Harry could imagine the boy's voice just a hair deeper and rougher – and the boy proved him right.

"I'm Sirius Black," The teen said timidly. "I – I beg your pardon, sir, but I did not mean to intrude. Like I said, I-I'm not really sure how I got here."

Harry blinked. He blinked again. And then he stood slowly, lowering his wand. Well, he had no reason to complain about boredom now, did he? This situation was plenty interesting.


	2. Drunken Conversations

**Second verse, same as the first!**

**This will probably be the last chapter I put up for about two weeks on any of my stories. School fucking sucks like that. Anyway, I'm glad that you all have expressed interest in this story. It's been a breath of fresh air for me.**

**Enjoy Chapter 2!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Drunken Conversations<strong>

Harry twirled his wand in his fingers down by his side. He was at a loss of what to say. Sirius Black was in his house! Not _his_…well it _was_ his, now, but it had been Sirius' house first – and he was young! Really young! Before Azkaban young! Sirius was in a Hogwarts uniform, for Christ's sake!

It was one of the most bizarre things Harry had ever witnessed, and that was saying something. Honestly, he was not sure why he was not freaking out more. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Instead of losing his bloody mind, however, Harry merely stared at the boy that would become his godfather.

And said boy fidgeted as he avoided his gaze.

Sirius – this Sirius – was not his godfather. He was a child. It made the whole situation a bit easier to digest. Now, if Harry had seen _his_ Sirius walk through the door…well…

As it was, this was just another inexplicable, unprecedented thing to happen in Harry's life. No big deal.

Harry cleared his throat softly and Sirius' gaze snapped back to him.

"Er," Harry started awkwardly, glancing longingly to his scotch resting on the table by his recliner. "Perhaps we should sit? I mean, I'm sure you have questions – and I have questions, too. You shouldn't have been able to get in here. This house is warded to the teeth. I've had to ward it so strongly because people are bloody batty."

"Sure," Sirius agreed, but hesitated to make the first move. Harry rumpled his hair with a grimace before waving him over to the hearth.

Harry plopped into the recliner with a heavy sigh, grabbing his drink and downing it. Sirius watched him oddly.

"What?" Harry asked. "I was planning on getting shitfaced before you walked in. Speaking of, would you like a drink? It's scotch – I can get you something else, though. There's quite the extensive liquor stock in the wine cellar."

Sirius shook his head, the first smile of the evening revealing itself. "No, thanks. You look so much like a friend of mine. It's caught me off guard –"

"Well, I said I was a Potter, didn't I?" Harry remarked lightly, summoning a bottle of rum from the kitchen that had been sitting in ice. "That shouldn't surprise you too much."

"So you're related to James?" Sirius smiled happily. "He's never mentioned you! I thought I knew all the Potters! I've been over James' house enough times – of course, that doesn't explain how you're _here_, though. Unless…well, where are we?"

Harry pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, pouring some into his glass and embracing the silence. Sirius wanted to know where "here" was, eh? Well, it was exactly where he thought it was, but how was Harry supposed to answer that?

Truthfully, Harry supposed. God, rum tasted fantastic.

"Here is Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," Harry grunted. "Exactly where you thought, hmm?"

Sirius leaned forward, looking around. "Yeah," He said. "It's different, though…or at least it looks different than from what I...you said you lived here? I don't…I don't understand."

Harry sighed again, leaning forward and brushing the hair from his face. "I don't, either," He informed Sirius. "I don't understand how you got in my house and I don't understand how you're here at all. I mean, I can answer stuff for you, but there's something else happening here. You…you shouldn't be here."

"Well, obviously," Sirius snorted. "I was in Hogwarts a minute ago, talking to my mate Remus. I'm walking down the corridor one minute and the next – "

"- The next, you're opening a door and entering a house that used to be yours," Harry finished for him. It was starting to make sense in the haze of his mind. At least, it _might_ be making sense. Harry needed to ask something –

"Used to be?" Sirius cried. "What's that supposed to mean? I still live –"

"Were you on the seventh floor?" Harry cut him off. "Near the tapestries?"

Sirius blinked. "…Yes. I was – well, James and I got into a…into a fight. And Remus and I were talking before I went for a walk. I kind of…paced, I guess. Back and forth down the hallway. I just needed to get away for a bit. I needed to get out of Gryffindor."

Harry nodded slowly. "And what were you thinking? Do you remember?"

"I…I wanted to go home," Sirius muttered. "And then I was thinking about how awful my family is and how I don't really have a home. Then…I saw a door."

"This door. The door to…here," Harry nodded again, encouragingly. "Well, Sirius, you're lucky that I had such a crazy seven years at Hogwarts - that actually helps me understand a bit. The door that you went through is called the Room of Requirement. It's a room not many people know about and it gives you what you want. So you wanted…?"

Harry trailed off. That seemed to be the key to it all, but only Sirius could really answer it.

"I wanted a home," Sirius said simply. "Or to go home, wherever that is. And it landed me here."

Sirius looked lost. Harry could not help but laugh.

"What?" Sirius scowled defensively. "You taking the mickey?"

But Harry could not stop laughing. Magic was fucking _weird_. A poor kid wanted to go home and magic thought it was wise to drop them on his doorstep?!

"Sirius," Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm not taking the mickey. I'm laughing at how dumb this all is. You aren't seeing it from my perspective because you don't know everything. Let me enlighten you."

Harry swished his holly wand once more. Sirius jumped, turning in his chair in time to see a newspaper and several boxes zoom into the room, piling neatly at Harry's feet.

"Here," Harry grunted, leaning down to grab the topmost box and the newspaper. He reached out, tossing them both into Sirius' lap before reaching for his drink once more. Sirius watched him for a moment, but when it became clear that Harry had nothing to say, he looked down.

And his jaw dropped:

YOU-KNOW-WHO DEAD

BOY-WHO-LIVED HARRY POTTER VANQUISHES EVIL, SAVES US ALL

Thousands Dead in Battle of Hogwarts

"W-What is this?" Sirius asked shakily. "What is this?!"

Harry eyed him over his glass. "It's the paper from the day after I killed Voldemort."

Sirius could not stop gaping. He could not blink. He could not speak. Here he was, sitting across from the man who killed You-Know-Who…

"But…but he's alive," Sirius shook his head. "You-Know-Who's alive. This can't be a real –"

"Look at the date," Harry prodded him gently.

Sirius stared, wide-eyed for a moment before looking down.

The Second of May, 1998.

Nineteen Ninety-_fucking_-eight.

Alarmed, Sirius looked up. His eyes were wild and desperate. Harry smiled grimly.

"Welcome to 2005, Sirius," Harry said quietly.

The hearth in the living area continued to crackle merrily, completely ignorant of the heaving breaths that Sirius was taking and the heavy implications lingering in the air.

How did this happen? How could a door in a _school_ take him to the future? Sirius read the article in a daze. The man in the room with him had killed Voldemort….in a one on one duel. He saved everyone. He survived a Killing Curse! And he was related to James!

Sirius opened the box in his lap and an Order of Merlin medal sparkled in the firelight. He looked up – Harry was merely staring at him.

"Got seven of 'em," Harry toed the stack of boxes with his foot. "The Ministry gave me a ton of them once they learned all the stuff I had to do to get rid of the damn fool. It was pretty bad, that war – it was just me and my friends…and Remus at times. Snape. More friends. A house elf."

Sirius' hands shook. "R-Remus? Remus Lupin? Snape? How-how is he?"

"Dead," Harry frowned. "Both of them. Both died in the Battle. Remus, though…Remus had a son. He's my godson, actually. Teddy."

"R-really?" Sirius trembled. Remus died? "How's…how…Teddy, you say? Remus had a son? Wait – James! What about James? And Peter? And…my brother? And me? What _happened?_!"

Sirius was breathing rapidly and it did not take a trained Mediwizard to notice the boy was freaking out. Harry got up and kneeled in front of Sirius, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Easy," Harry breathed. "Calm down. It's gonna be alright. Before we start getting into this, why don't you go check the door? I need…we need to know if you can get back through."

That got Sirius' attention. Grey eyes shot back to him. Harry smiled encouragingly.

"Go on," Harry patted him on the shoulder. "If you can get back through, than my story is just that. A story. It isn't a reality to you. My liquor is real, though! Go on, check and then we can drink and talk and stuff."

Harry got up and Sirius followed suit, walking on shaky legs to the front door of Number Twelve. His parents' front door. Please…_please_ be Hogwarts. Sirius opened the door in the shadowy entrance way and almost collapsed with relief. The door did not open up to reveal the stoop and street that Sirius had been dreading. Instead, Barnabas the Barmy was there, trying in vain to teach several trolls to dance.

"It's…it's Hogwarts," Sirius laughed with joy. "I'm not stuck here! Thank god!"

Harry laughed from the living area. "Good. I still owe you some answers, though. Get back in here – I'll pour you a drink."

Sirius beamed as he entered the room again. "I'm fifteen, you know."

Harry was busy pouring a drink. He turned around, smirked, and shrugged.

"I'm an Auror," Harry said. "The Head Auror. I make the rules. Besides, if there were ever a time to drink as a minor, it's with a trained Auror. Go on, take the drink."

Harry waggled it in front of Sirius. Sirius snatched it with a grin.

"Oh, I've drank before, alright," Sirius boasted. "Us Marauders drink all the time. It's nothing new for me."

"Sure, Butterbeer," Harry teased him lightly. Sirius shoved his shoulder. "Oi! I'm already four drinks ahead of you! You'll knock me over."

The two of them laughed. All the tension was gone. Sirius was safe; he could return to his time. Now they could just talk.

"So you said you had a story," Sirius grinned, wincing slightly at the taste of the rum. Boy, that stuff was _strong_.

"Well, this all probably doesn't make sense to you, right?" Harry pointed out. Sirius nodded. "See? Can't blame you for having a fit. In short, the Room of Requirement did something weird, spit you out in a different time, and now you're talking to your godson from the future."

Sirius blinked. "W-What?"

Harry burst out laughing at Sirius' expression. Sirius frowned, but waited for Harry to stifle his laughter. "It's not funny," Sirius defended. "You…you're my godson?"

Harry's face was ruddy and warm as he rubbed at his own cheek. "You didn't think my dad would pick anyone else for the job, did you?"

Sirius started again. "James has a kid, too?! Wait! Who'd he marry?"

"Come on," Harry smiled lazily. "You can guess that. He only has eyes for one lass, doesn't he?"

"Lily Evans," Sirius breathed. "He actually got Evans to notice him? Oh my God, wait until I tell him! How did he do it?"

Harry swallowed a gulp of his drink and gnawed at the ice that came with it. "Well, according to everything I know about my father, he's still acting like an arsewipe. Mum warmed up to him once he grew up a bit. The war did that to people…"

Harry trailed off awkwardly, looking into the fire. Sirius cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm sure James is proud to be the father of the guy who killed You-Know-Who!" Sirius pointed out happily. "I know I'd be!"

Harry looked back at him, his smile strained.

"He's uh," Harry struggled to speak. "Er, my dad's….dead."

"WHAT?!"

"Mum too," Harry chuckled sadly. "They both died when I was a toddler."

The silence was even worse, this time. This silence was just as awkward as the ones before it, but the desperation that lingered made Harry feel uncomfortable. Sirius was still grasping at straws.

"I…my life hasn't been the best," Harry admitted to his godfather. "So many people died and sacrificed for me. I grew up with my aunt and uncle who despised me. You died too, Sirius. And I've missed every single one of you every day since. Sure, I have friends and they're the best, but I'm still…"

"Missing something," Sirius filled in for him. "Like me."

"…Yeah," Harry agreed.

Silence.

Sirius frowned at his lap. He let the news of his death wash over him. Despite the fact that the war was ongoing in his time, he never…never realized how likely it was that he would die. It was inconceivable. James. Remus. Lily Evans. All of them died.

"I…I never realized how mortal we all are," Sirius admitted softly. "I can't believe we die. It's just…hard to imagine. Depressing, even."

Harry nodded, sipping at his newest drink. "I lost you when I was fifteen myself," Harry informed him. "Your life definitely didn't go the way you probably planned: A long stint in Azkaban, living on the run for a year before living here…getting killed by Bellatrix."

"No!" Sirius cried. "No way! I'd never let her do that to me!"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "You got cocky. She hit you with a simple spell that knocked you into a Ministry device that – that finished the job."

"See? She didn't kill me!" Sirius joked. "She got lucky. Circumstance…"

"I hit her with the Cruciatus Curse after she did it," Harry looked Sirius in the eye. "And then Voldemort tried to possess me. Dumbledore and him dueled and then I broke most of Dumbledore's possessions. That was a shitty night."

Sirius smiled feebly. "Well, you got her back for me. Thanks."

They high-fived, causing them both to laugh and sip at their drinks.

"Anyway," Harry sighed. "That might be why the Room of Requirement dropped you off, here. This is your house, technically. You gave it to me in your will, but I have never really thought of it as my house, you know? It's where I live. And you're my godfather, so we're family."

Sirius beamed. "I'll have to work on being responsible, then!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry snorted. "I'm all grown up. Be as childish as you like. Doesn't change the fact that you're Sirius and you're the closest thing to family I have…apart from Teddy."

"That's…that's brilliant," Sirius chuckled. His head was a bit dizzy – whether from the alcohol or from happiness, he could not tell. "My real family is pretty horrible. Well, except for my brother. He's just…lost."

"Like us," Harry agreed. "Listen, Sirius. Your brother joined Voldemort. He did exactly what was expected of him and I can't deny any of that…but he grew a pair and stood up for what was right. He turned on Voldemort and was killed for it. But what he did to Voldemort when he betrayed him…Sirius, your brother was very important to killing Voldemort. Your brother was a good person and Siri-well, my Sirius always told me that he should have reached out to Regulus. You should talk to him when you go back."

Sirius hung to Harry's every word. When Harry finished speaking, Sirius looked pained.

"I know," Sirius admitted in a whisper. "I knew he was good. Reggie's always been a good kid. Too good. My parents have had no problem taking advantage of it."

Harry nodded. "Exactly. Snape's had a rough go of it as well, come to think of it."

"SNAPE?!"

"Snape," Harry asserted solemnly. "How much do you know about Severus Snape?"

Sirius scowled. "That he's a slimy, greasy tosser who hates our guts."

"Snape had a horrible childhood, too," Harry informed Sirius. "It's something that's really hard to see or understand when you're a teenager – trust me, I know. And then you hit twenty or so and feel rotten at how you used to treat people. I know more about Snape than I'd really care to know. I never liked the bloke, but his life _sucked_ and he was so damn brave through it all. He spied on Voldemort for Dumbledore. I know for a fact in school that he was lonely."

"He's always hanging around Avery and Mulciber!" Sirius protested. "Rosier, too! And Malfoy even talks to him!"

Harry shook his head. "He's not friends with any of them. He talks to them because he's a Slytherin in a time where Voldemort is at power. He does what he has to – even as a fifth year. You lot could save a fellow teenager if you bothered to reach out."

Sirius did not know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. He gulped down the last of his drink and yawned.

Harry smiled wryly. "It's eleven. Well past curfew at Hogwarts. You should go."

"But what if I can't get back?" Sirius asked suddenly. Harry looked at him oddly. "Come on, Harry – of course I want to come back! You're my godson, aren't you? We're family, you said!"

Harry set his drink down and stood again, laughing. "Yeah. We are. You still need to go back, though. School's important. The Marauder's will miss you. All that rot. Think about it, though; if the Room could bring you here with such a vague wish, surely it would cater to a more detailed wish, right? You just have to think it up and pace back and forth in front of the wall three times."

Sirius stood as well, following Harry to the entrance hall. "You could come with me, you know," Sirius said slyly. "In case you ever want to come through."

Harry shook his head. Magic never worked like that. "I doubt it works. The door should lead you to Hogwarts and me to…well, the rest of my world. This is home for you, remember? For me, it's just…where I go when the Ministry doesn't need me to go play superhero."

Sirius frowned. "Well…okay, then. Thanks for…well. It's nice to meet you, Harry. And thanks for letting me stay for a while."

Harry shrugged lightly. "Sure. It's home, right? I'm glad we got the chance to do this. It's bizarre, but that's right on track for my life."

They laughed at the silliness of it all, the ridiculousness. It was something they had in common.

"Can I have a hug?" Sirius asked suddenly. Harry raised his eyebrows and Sirius flushed.

"It's something us Marauders do," He explained. "And, well, you're my godson, right? I'm sure I hugged you a lot…"

Harry laughed. "Of course. Come here."

Sirius wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell of alcohol, but enjoyed the hug all the same. Harry was another…_would be_ another member of his family. Still, it was remarkable that Harry could still stand and speak, if that stench was an indication of how much alcohol he had consumed.

"There. I'm off," Sirius grinned. "I'll talk to you soon."

With a cheery wave, Sirius walked through the door. Harry scratched at his hip through his pajama pants, staring for a moment before shaking his head and heading upstairs. He tossed his shirt to the floor and flopped down on his bed, doing his best to fall asleep.

He would not think about how he had been able to see Hogwarts through the threshold of the door when Sirius had opened it. Nope. That was not even possible, anyway. The Room of Requirement did not work that way.

Right?

Harry was asleep before he could answer his own question, dreaming of flying on his godfather's motorcycle. A joyous, barking laughter brought a smile to his face in his sleep.


	3. Lovely Vocabulary

**God damn, I am the biggest procrastinator of all time.**

**I have a final exam due tomorrow morning but I just can't bear to start it. And so here I am, finalizing chapter 3 of this story. It would be fucking hysterical if I weren't so desperate to just be _done_ with school. At least I like this chapter; it was very easy to write.**

**...Fuck.**

**"Lovely vocabulary, mate!"**

**Shut up, Sirius!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Lovely Vocabulary<strong>

"Head Auror Potter!"

Harry cocked his head to the side and withheld a sigh. A bloody reporter was trailing after him, quill and parchment in hand. She wanted an interview, no doubt…right in the middle of the Ministry Atrium. Harry put on a strained smile.

"Yes?" Harry asked mildly, looking down and smoothening out the front of his red Auror robes. "How can I help you?"

The reporter was fairly young, Harry observed, and if the woman's wide eyes and sharp breaths we any indication, she was a green reporter. Brilliant.

"I…I wanted to ask you a few questions, sir," The woman revealed in rush. "I'm an intern at the Daily Prophet we just received word a few minutes ago that the Aurors just captured long-time fugitive of the Marcus Reginald - they say you even bested him in a duel!"

Harry started to answer, but stalled as he caught the clear adoration in the reporter's eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I should have asked you right from the start. Terribly rude of me. What's your name?"

The reporter gaped just a bit.

"R-Rena White," She stuttered. "Pleasure, sir."

Harry shook the young woman's hand with a suave smile. Honestly, he disliked being treated like a celebrity, but he absolutely loathed being treated like…like he was _old_. He was twenty-five, for Christ's sake. This reporter was…_maybe_ five years younger? And she was staring at him like he knew the answers to everything. Still, it allowed him some advantages when dealing with the press or the public.

"Ms. White," Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, I can confirm that Marcus Reginald is in Auror custody at the moment. However, it took a team effort to track him down and detain him without complications. I'm afraid the bit about me dueling is nothing but unfounded rumors."

"But…but my sources – "

"Must have given you inaccurate information, unfortunately," Harry corrected gently. "Auror work is never as glorified as a one on one duel. We do our best to try not to operate that way. There are no heroes, in the Aurors. We work as a team to protect our citizens. As I said, it took an entire team effort to detain Mr. Reginald without serious complications."

"Oh," The girl looked quite downtrodden.

"Hey, cheer up," Harry smiled with a wink. "You're the first to confirm the story. Well done."

White's expression morphed into one of pride. "That's true. Thank you, sir. If I have any follow up questions, will you be around your office, or - ?"

"Nah," Harry waved dismissively. "I'll be out somewhere. Just take it up with Kingsley or Auror Dawlish."

"Kingsley?! You mean the Minister of Magic?"

"Sure! Why not?" Harry grinned. "He's a big ol' softie, I promise. I'm sure that he'd be happy to answer questions. Tell his secretary that Harry Potter promised you an audience!"

"You can do that?" White asked in awe. Harry shrugged.

"Sure," He said, reiterating his words from a moment ago. "Why not? Later!"

Harry ducked into the crowd before the reporter could trail after him, snickering to himself all the way to the detainment cells in the underbelly of the Ministry. Kingsley would be pissed. He hated doing interviews and was a master at shielding behind the more specialized witches and wizards of his council. That reporter would be in for a rude awakening.

The Ministry cells were located through the other side of the Auror offices and down a flight of stairs, away from the constant ruckus of Ministry going-ons. Harry took the stairs down to the second floor of the Ministry, ducked under a flying Ministry notice zipping through the air, and quickly reached the detainment cells.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Harry grinned as he trotted down the steps. "I was just thinking about you, Kingsley!"

The Minister of Magic was pacing in front of the double doors with his arms crossed. He turned around, rolling his eyes. Kingsley had been waiting for Harry to show up, it seemed. "Do I even want to know?"

"…Probably not," Harry chuckled.

Kingsley did not look impressed. "Word is you took Reginald down by yourself," Kingsley muttered in his deep baritone. "Is that true?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "He tried to run, I cut him off, he threw a spell and I made him pay. I told a reporter otherwise up in the Atrium, but there's the truth for you."

Kingsley nodded slowly. "It's what I figured. Ron came back shaking his head at me. I knew you must have gone and done something pretty silly to get Ron to react like that."

"It isn't silly. And to be fair, he didn't throw any lethal curses at me," Harry pointed out.

Kingsley scoffed. "This suspect has killed in the past, Harry. You should know better than to do what you did. Our entire training program here centers on camaraderie and being there for your fellow Aurors. And what did you do? Ran off by yourself to fight a man with a history of using lethal spells."

Harry had nothing to say to that. Everything that Kingsley had said was true, but it was hard to wait when he knew he had the upper hand on a suspect. Besides, the longer a suspect was left with a wand in his hand, the greater the chance for civilian interference or injury. Harry could not allow that.

"Well," Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, at a loss of what to say to the Minister. "You reckon we should get on with questioning the suspect?"

Kingsley frowned severely. "No. _We_ will, of course, but I'm sending you home for the rest of the week. No pay."

"What?!" Harry cried in outrage. "C'mon, Kingsley! I was just doing what I thought was best! Besides, you can't do that! A decision like that is up to Robards!"

"And who does Robards answer to, Harry?" Kingsley countered hotly. "Me. I told him this was how it was going to be just a few minutes ago. He agreed. Harry, this is not your first infraction against our Law Enforcement Code of Conduct! You have had multiple infractions and they're happening more and more often! This must stop!"

Harry scowled, a bitter taste coating his tongue. If Gawain Robards, the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, had given over the power to suspend Aurors over to Kingsley, there was nothing Harry could do.

Harry wanted to kick something, though. Hard. Kingsley always got too involved with the Aurors – it was in his blood. It was where the Minister came from. Kingsley simply could not stay away.

And what could Harry say? He certainly could not tell the Minister that he took up the challenge against Reginald simply because it was interesting, could he? That it was something to _do_? What would Kingsley say to that?

"Dawlish will take over for the rest of the week for you," Kingsley was saying. "And Harry, this isn't so much a punishment as it is a wake-up call. You're Harry Potter, sure, but you exist within the structure of the Auror Corps. We need you, Harry, but only as the leader of the Aurors. Not as a one-man hit team. We have Hitwizards for that. Get it together."

Harry saw no further reason to stick around. He stared Kingsley in the eyes for a moment before shaking his own head and leaving without a word. Harry walked back up the stairs, away from the detainment cells, and entered the main lobby of the Auror offices. Ron was waiting for him over to the side.

"What'd Shacklebolt say?" Ron asked fretfully. His blue eyes darted dubiously to the stairs. Harry withstood the urge to snap at his best friend.

"Kingsley suspended me without pay for the rest of the week," Harry muttered shortly. Ron followed Harry to his office.

Ron swore quietly.

"Blimey, mate," Ron grimaced. "I thought he'd just dress you down a bit. I never thought he'd…"

"Be an arse about it?" Harry growled, opening the door with a flick of his wrist. Harry was just now getting the hang of some wandless magic. Spells were out of the question, but lashing out at a door worked well enough.

"…Right," Ron agreed lamely before frowning. "Er, where are you going?"

"Home," Harry said shortly. He was busy grabbing a few things and packing up his carry bag. "If he doesn't want me here, I don't want to be here."

"B-but Harry! He didn't mean it like that!"

"Like what, Ron? How did he mean it?" Harry shot back sarcastically. His frown was almost a sneer, like one of the ones Snape used to give him. Harry stopped the expression at once, turning back to his packing. "A suspension is pretty clear, don't you think?"

Ron's ears grew red. "Well, I dunno! Look, it's all the same, right? We're all on the same page. We work together!"

"Apparently not this week," Harry snorted. He paused for a bit to look up at his friend. "I'm going home, Ron. I'm tired and I haven't eaten since dinner last night. I got called in on this shite- "

"You haven't eaten?!" Ron interjected. "That – that's horrible!"

Harry cocked his head to the side, smiling indulgently. "Yes. Yes it is. I'm going to go fix that. At home away from whatever's got Kingsley acting all prudish."

"Well," Ron muttered reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't like seeing you leave, mate. You're my mate, but you're also our boss around here. You're good. We need you."

Harry zipped his bag, pulled his Auror's robe up over his head, and hung it on the rack behind his desk before reaching for his hooded jacket. The house elves would take care of his robe. "I'll be back Monday, Ron. It's no big deal. Thanks, though. Dinner with Hermione this Saturday?"

Ron smiled brightly. "Always. Be sure not to…well. She's been a bit…tetchy about her pregnancy, lately. Best not to say much about it."

Harry smirked. Ron had stuck his foot into his mouth a few times this past week, no doubt. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate. I'll see you later."

"Later," Ron said. Harry grabbed a hand of Floo and tossed it into his fire. Seconds later, he was in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Harry stared around for a second, taking in the gloomy silence the kitchen had to offer.

"FUCK!" He shouted, throwing his coat and duffel bag down on the large kitchen table. He sat down shortly thereafter, scrubbing wearily at his face.

Why did Kingsley have to go and be difficult? He had caught the blighter! The fight was over before it began. Harry himself had been disappointed! But no, none of that mattered. Kingsley went and suspended him over a non-issue.

Stupid. Bloody stupid.

"Lovely vocabulary, mate!"

Harry jumped, looking up to see Sirius beaming from the kitchen doorway, dressed in his Hogwarts robes. Harry slumped with a scowl, nonetheless waving him to the table.

"The Minister of Magic just suspended me from work for doing my job too damn well," Harry muttered spitefully. "What brings you back here?"

Sirius shrugged, taking a seat. "I wanted to get away from Hogwarts for a while. McGonagall assigned us too much bloody homework and I don't know how to change my hair color. You wouldn't know how to do that, would you?"

Harry answered with a shrug of his own.

"Sure," Harry said after a moment of staring blankly at the wall of the kitchen. "It's part of the Auror training. Stealth and all that. Lots of trainees have trouble with it. I've found that it's usually just a mental block. People have trouble imagining themselves looking different, but it's not really about _you_. It's about hair, and hair is simple."

"Uh, for you, maybe," Sirius muttered dubiously. Harry laughed.

"No, really," He insisted, reaching out. "Here, go on – try the spell."

Sirius blinked. "Er…underage, remember? Try something for me – touch your forearm."

"Go on," Harry urged. "I've got wards on the house and everything. You won't get me in trouble."

Sirius eyed him fretfully, but did what Harry told him. With a shaky sigh, Sirius grasped part of his hair and swished his wand with a harsh, jabbing movement.

Nothing happened. Sirius scowled and looked as if he would be quite happy tossing his wand across the room. As it was, Sirius simply dropped his wand to clatter on the table as he scrubbed at his scalp.

"No, no," Harry could not help but laugh. "You've got it all wrong, Sirius. I mean, the wand movement's rotten, but the attitude behind the spell is real problem.

"Try something for me," Harry said. "I want you to reach out and grasp your forearm."

Sirius snorted in disbelief but flopped his right arm on the table and slapped his left hand on top.

"Now what?" He asked with a mocking, expectant expression. "Shall I prod it with my wand?"

Harry cracked a grin and shook his head. "No, you prat. I've got the inside knowledge, see? Now, I want you to tell me what you feel."

Sirius looked confused. "I feel my forearm."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And what is your forearm? It's skin, right? And then muscle, then bone. Blood. All of that. Feel all the little hairs and bumps on your forearm. Feel the texture. Are there any scratches? You'll most likely feel a bit of warmth, too. You might even feel the blood pulsing underneath. So there's all that. Now, what about your forearm? What does it feel?"

"I feel my hand?"

"Right," Harry acknowledged. "You feel your hand with your forearm and you feel the weight, the warmth, the clamminess as it begins to perspire. Your forearm is complicated, you see? There's a lot going on. Your forearm itself feels complex, but it also can _feel_ right back. Hair, however…touch your hair."

Sirius grasped a lock.

"You feel the texture, right?" Harry asked him. He held his hands out in a shrugging gesture. "It's smooth, like small threads…but your hair feels nothing in return. If anything, your scalp feels as you tug on your hair. The hair, however is just bloody hair. Hair is just a thing, like anything else you've Transfigured in class. You're psyching yourself out. Don't overthink it. You've changed the color of a whole bunch of things in McGonagall's class, I bet – mate! You're a bloody Animagus! Seriously, this is _nothing_ in comparison to that!"

Sirius sighed, thumping the table with his thumb in agitation. "Yeah, but being Padfoot is just…who I am. It took work, but I'm still me."

"And you think that changing your hair color going to change you?" Harry snorted. "No. I get it, though. Being an Animagus is fun, right? But this is schoolwork. It's hard to get excited. Don't let school stress you out; just do the spell."

Harry stared back impassively as Sirius eyed him. At last, Sirius shook his head, grabbed his wand, and grimaced.

"You've got it," Said Harry gently. "Nice deep breath, relaxed wand movement. Don't overthink it."

Sirius steeled himself and grasped his hair. His eyes flickered upwards and Harry smiled reassuringly, watching as Sirius swished his wand and the tip of his hair started to grow slightly lighter. Sirius gaped in surprise and then whooped with delight.

"Well done," Harry beamed, leaning back in his chair with an air of satisfaction. "See? Not all that hard. Work on the wand movement, though. Still a little too dramatic with it."

Sirius was positively glowing. "That's brilliant! First try! It's taken me two bloody classes with McGonagall and you help me get it on the first try! _Wicked_!"

Harry pantomimed a bow from his seat.

"I've got experience teaching," Harry said. "Both in school and with the Aurors. You wouldn't believe how many witches and wizards try to join the Aurors without knowing how to cast the simplest of spells."

"Were you good in school?" Sirius looked up from his hair. Harry shrugged.

"I was fair. I had more important things to worry about, didn't I?" He asked rhetorically. "Voldemort was a constant in my school years – and so was just a bunch of stupid stuff. So much bullshit, I tell you. There was a Triwizard Tournament, a bloody basilisk being set upon the school, a Ministry takeover of Hogwarts…"

"That all sounds horrible," Sirius gaped for a moment. "Well, except for the Triwizard Tournament! That would be brilliant!"

Harry rolled his eyes in good humor. "Is it brilliant that Voldemort got his body back because of that tournament? I had to fight a Hungarian Horntail, regardless, and that was ridiculously stressful."

Sirius looked confused. "Wait – you competed? I thought it was just a…just a thing."

Oh, Harry had quite the laugh at that. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin atop his head, smiling indulgently at Sirius.

"There are two things you need to know about me, Sirius," Harry said. "If Harry Potter is involved, something is going to go wrong. It's just the way it works. And after that something goes wrong, I'll be the one to deal with the mess. With the tournament, someone put my name up for being chosen and _of course_, I got chosen for the bloody tournament. I was fourteen-years-old – a year younger than you, Sirius - and then I had to compete. With the basilisk, my friends and I were the ones to figure out what was happening. It started petrifying people and I was the one to eventually kill the thing. Voldemort…same thing.

"It's carried over to the Aurors, too," Harry stretched back. "I've just gotten used to it, honestly."

"…You killed a-a…never mind," Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "At least you had friends to help."

Harry sighed happily. "Ron and Hermione. They've been there for me ever since first year. We did everything together – we even beat Voldemort together. I don't know where I'd be without them."

Sirius was nodding as if he understood. "Same with me. James and I have been best friends since the train to Hogwarts. Remus was next. Then Peter. They all mean so much to me, you know?"

Harry smiled weakly, summoning drinks. He did not want to bring up Peter – Peter Pettigrew was probably a fine lad at fifteen. He would have to tell Sirius something at some point. Now was not the time, however.

"Speaking of the Marauders, how are they doing?" Harry asked, sliding a Butterbeer over to Sirius. "Not too much mischief, I hope?"

"There's never too much mischief," Sirius snickered proudly. "We put a spell on Slughorn's robes yesterday where the buttons in the front kept coming undone. Watching him try to cover up was _hysterical_. And he would get more and more flustered each time! You…do know who Slughorn is, right? That's partly what makes it so funny."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, I know Slughorn. He was the Potions Master in my sixth year. Snape had the job before that. It was so nice to have a potions professor that didn't hate me."

"See? Snape's rotten!" Sirius exclaimed. "I don't know why you like that sod."

"I don't," Harry said. "I just understand him. We have a lot of similarities and…well, I respect him. He died to defeat Voldemort. You lot _really_ ought to treat him better, Sirius. I'm not kidding."

Sirius frowned. "James hates him because he's friends with Lily Evans."

"They grew up near each other, did you know that? Lily and Snape," Harry supplied. "They were childhood friends. James can hate him all he wants, but it won't change a bloody thing."

Sirius just stared at him with wide eyes.

"And Snape's family is not the best, just like yours," Harry added. "If James truly wanted to win Lily over, he'd stop tormenting Snape."

"I suppose…" Sirius trailed off.

The silence that fell on the kitchen was comfortable. Sirius sat there, thinking about what Harry had said and that was all he could ask for. Harry slapped the table after a short while.

"Anyway, I'm done with this," Harry declared. "If the Minister doesn't want me at work, I'm going to go out in public so people can see. The press will definitely catch on to the fact that I'm not on duty."

Sirius looked at him, surprise morphing into satisfaction. "That's what a Marauder would do. Good one, mate!"

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "It'll be interesting, at least. I'll go take Hermione out to lunch or something. I'm sure she'll love to go eat out. Say – what time do you have to be back at school?"

Sirius blinked, the lazy smile falling off his face. He fumbled hastily for his pocket watch.

"A quarter past one?! Bloody hell! I'm ten minutes late for Defense!"

"Well, I'd write you a note," Harry trailed off before shrugging helplessly. Sirius wagged his hand.

"Eh, whatever," He muttered, standing nonetheless. "The Defense teacher is just a hold over at the moment. Dumbledore's got an Auror filling in. It's not like I'll get in tons of trouble, right? I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry gave a cheery wave as Sirius left, leaning back on the hind legs of his chair. Hermione would scold him, he was sure, but what she did not know would not hurt her. Harry heard the front door clack shut a moment later. Would he still be able to see into the school? Probably, Harry assumed.

He looked around the kitchen; the only sound was the front two legs of his chair crashing back into the floor.

He was bored. Maybe Hermione would help with that.


	4. The Other Side

**Hello! I took a few days off after final exams and belted this chapter out. It's a fun one. More discussions, some character development for Sirius, and more Marauders. One more chapter and we'll have the premise of the story all lined out. **

**I'm working on EbtD next. Expect a chapter update within the week. **

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Other Side<strong>

The constant buzzing was becoming distracting. Sirius stared down at the parchment, hoping words would just appear there. Why did teachers make him _write_ stuff? Could he not just, you know, cast spells? Reading was one thing, but why writing? Why essays? What purpose could they possibly serve? They made Sirius' hand cramp and his brain throb unpleasantly.

And that buzzing was really becoming distracting. Sirius dipped his quill into the ink, tapped it on the side of the vial, and then…he paused. What had Harry told him, again? Sirius could do the transfiguration just fine, now, thanks to Harry. But McGonagall still wanted an essay. Harry had said that hair was simple, right? It was inanimate, even though it was part of a person. Transfiguring it was easy because…because he did not have to overthink it? That was what Harry had said.

But that was not all he said. Sirius frowned. Harry had said other things, too. Harry, for instance, had said that he should feel his hair and see how it felt different than everything else on him.

Sirius sighed, glancing outside to the rapidly darkening sky for a moment. You know what? Sod it. This essay would not be a normal one, but McGonagall was usually pretty reasonable. She had assigned the essay because she wanted outside research done. Harry counted as outside research, did he not? Sirius decided that he would write a note at the top of the parchment telling McGonagall that he received the information from an Auror friend. If she had a problem with it, he would just show her that he could do the transfiguration.

Besides, Sirius smirked slyly…a note at the top of the parchment could take a few inches off this essay.

But that buzzing was really, really distracting.

"Prongs!"

James blinked at him, snatching the Snitch out of the air. "'Sup, Padfoot?"

"Could you not do that? I'm trying to write my essay!"

Remus looked relieved beside him – it seemed that James fiddling with his Snitch was not just annoying Sirius.

"Yeah, sure," James pocketed the Snitch with an odd look. "What's got you all in a fuss, Paddy? Just copy mine – here."

James pulled a scroll of parchment from his bag and tossed it across the table.

"There you go," James beamed. "Copy that and let's get the hell out of the library. It's boring in here."

"Can I see it after Padfoot?" Peter said.

James shrugged. "Sure, Wormtail. I don't see why not. Good ol' Moony's too good to copy, though, aren't ya Remus? Got to do your own work like the good little Prefect."

Remus rolled his eyes dramatically. He knew James was just teasing. "Yes, James. Writing mindless essays for class is what I live for. There's nothing I'd rather be doing. Don't you have other homework to do?"

James snorted as Peter snickered. "Like what? Sluggy won't care as long as I spend some time in class talking to him. As for Defense…who cares? We all know that bloke teaching won't be here long."

Remus sighed before tipping his head. James was skirting by, but he was completely right. Sirius coughed, sliding the essay over to Peter.

"Er…here, Petey," Sirius smiled weakly. "I talked to someone about McGonagall's assignment and they helped me. I want to write my own essay about it."

That got James' attention. James gave him a complicated look. "You know you can just ask me, right? I'm brilliant at Transfiguration."

"Well, I needed help Monday, James," Sirius said. "And you were busy chasing after Evans and being a git about it – "

"Oi!" Exclaimed James. "Evans thought about going on a date with me this time – I swear! And you never made it clear that you needed help with – "

"Yeah, because you were too busy calling my family horrible and being an egotistic prick!"

"I resent that!"

"Resent it all you want but you _resemble_ that!"

"Prongs! Padfoot!" Remus leaned in. "We're the Marauders – we're better than that. Pete, back me up, here!"

Peter nodded quickly. "I don't like it when you guys fight."

Sirius glanced over them all. Where Peter was watching with wide eyes, Remus looked particularly worried. And James…James just looked surprised. Like this was all new to him. Sirius gritted his teeth and said nothing.

"We good, now?" Remus asked cautiously. "James, we good?"

"Of course," James laughed easily. "Why wouldn't we be?"

James' eyes trailed over the library while he ruffled his hair. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and a sharp grin etched itself onto his face. Sirius knew that look.

"_Snivellus_."

Sirius turned around in his chair. Sure enough, Snape was there with books in hand. The Slytherin slowed to a stop, sneering in disgust.

"Well if it isn't Potter and his merry band of misfits," Snape spat. "It's regrettable that nothing of worth can fit in that abnormally large head of yours, Potter; it seems all the room in there is taken up by cobwebs and Flobberworm mucus."

"Eat shit, Snivelly," James scoffed. "You certainly can talk quite a bit, can't you? You might even have friends you weren't such a disgusting sight to look at. Honestly, Snape, did daddy never teach you what soap was?"

Snape dropped the books to the floor, livid outrage swiftly coloring his face. He drew his wand...but James was faster.

"_Expelliarmus_! _Levicorpus_!"

Snape cried out as he was wrenched from the ground by his ankle. His robes flapped over his head, revealing thin, white legs and an even thinner pair of black pants underneath. Peter sniggered by James' side.

"Were you going to pull your wand on me, Snivellus?" James mocked. He was standing now and all the other students in the library were watching in interest. Snape squirmed in midair, trying in vain to right himself.

"You know, Snivelly, I'd rip those pants off you, but why on earth would I punish myself?" James laughed. "It may scar us all!"

Sirius could not help but look around as those in the library cheered, egging James on. Where was the librarian?! No one was stepping in to stop this.

'_It's something that's really hard to see or understand when you're a teenager – trust me, I know. And then you hit twenty or so and feel rotten at how you used to treat people. I know more about Snape than I'd really care to know. I never liked the bloke, but his life__sucked__and he was so damn brave through it all. He spied on Voldemort for Dumbledore. I know for a fact in school that he was lonely.'_

Harry had said those words to him. Were they always such…such bullies? They must be. This was by no means a rare occurrence. Snape was not completely innocent, either, but this? Four on one? James had disarmed the boy and that could have been the end of it. It would have made Sirius feel a bit better…but then James did this, too. James went out of his way to humiliate the other boy like this. It made Sirius feel despicable, rotten. It made him feel like a failed human being. Before today, Sirius had been eager to help mock the boy.

Sirius did not know when it was that he stood, but all of a sudden he was staring a blinking James right in the face.

"Put him down, Prongs," Sirius muttered. "This has gone too far, mate. Pranks are one thing. This? This is horrible."

A sarcastic, choking laugh came from underneath that billowing robe. Snape's head was down there somewhere, and Sirius could just imagine the look of shame on his face, despite his caustic tone.

"Oh look! The Blood-traitor Black has come to the rescue! Why now, Black? Your lot has tormented me from day one! Did you finally realize you have no balls –?"

"Why you little -"

Sirius grabbed his arm. "No! James! Just put him down and let's go. This is wrong."

For the second time this afternoon, James gave Sirius a look that he could not read. It was like James did not recognize him. Sirius hoped his own expression was enough to deter his friend.

"BOYS! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

"Bollocks," James murmured, hastily dropping Snape to the ground before stashing his wand. Professor Slughorn trotted up to his house-student, putting a hand on Snape's shoulder as the boy righted his robes. The look of hatred and shame on Snape's face made Sirius' heart drop. It was like ice sliding down the back of his throat, lower and lower until it sat in the depths of his stomach. His hands trembled.

No one said a word.

"Nothing, eh? Perhaps a trip to the Headmaster will loosen your tongues," Slughorn wiped at his brow. The Potions Master was slightly out of breath. James leaned in to Peter and they both sniggered; he had probably just cracked a joke about it.

Did James not realize _anything_?

"Did I stutter, boys?" Slughorn scowled as they all watched. "Now! Move! Pack your bags! Let's go!"

* * *

><p>Sirius stared down at his lap. Before, going to the Headmaster's office would have been an adventure. It would have been something dangerous and fun to talk about. Now? Now Slughorn talked and it was all Sirius could do to keep from crying.<p>

Why was it hitting him so hard? He was a bully, a bad person. Sirius was the failure that his parents accused him of being on a daily basis. He had ignored them. Sirius had laughed it off with his best friends in the world, his best proof that he was _not_ a failure, that he mattered and was going to be successful.

Never mind that he had been tormenting another kid just because he could. For _five_ years. Sirius was ashamed.

"These boys need to learn their lesson, Headmaster!" Slughorn said. "This is not an isolated incident! You know this!"

Sirius snuck a glance at his friends. Remus had his head high, but his gaze averted. James was leaning back in his chair, looking quite bored. Peter was watching Slughorn and Dumbledore. On the other side of the room, Snape was scowling at the ground.

"Thank you, Horace," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You have been most helpful with your tale of the story. Mr. Snape, is there anything you'd like to add?"

Snape looked up in surprise, glanced over to the Marauders, and then scowled fiercely.

"Potter started it," He said. "It's always Potter."

James laughed at him. "Who drew their wand first, Snape, me or you? I'd say it was you that started it."

"You insulted me first! I was just going to a table to study!"

"Gentlemen – "

"Oh, sure you were! That's be biggest load of tripe I've ever heard!"

"Boys!"

"Why would I pick a fight against four people, Potter?"

"Because you're stupid, Snape! I thought we had established this!"

"BOYS!"

"It was James!" Sirius cried. Everyone fell silent. Sirius looked around, struggling for the words to come. Slughorn had moved over near his student, ready to defend him. Dumbledore still looked quite composed, but watched Sirius with interest.

"James…James, you insulted Snape first," Sirius admitted. He refused to look to his friend – he knew James must be gaping at him. Instead, he looked only to Dumbledore.

"Snape pulled his wand, but only after James insulted him, sir," Sirius said wearily. "And then James disarmed him. After that, he suspended him midair like Professor Slughorn said. But it wasn't just James, sir. It was all of us. None of us stopped him from doing it."

Sirius had never had Dumbledore staring at him so intensely over the rim of his spectacles. Sirius swallowed slightly and dropped his head back down. The hand that patted his shoulder got Sirius to look over to the side.

"Good one, Pads," Remus whispered. Indeed, Remus looked proud. Sirius nodded thickly.

"I believe I shall leave your punishment for Professor McGonagall to decide. I will speak with her momentarily," Professor Dumbledore said at last. "Mr. Snape, you are free to go. Professor Slughorn, would you please escort Mr. Snape to his Common Room?"

"Come on, lad," Slughorn said gruffly. He nodded his thanks to Dumbledore. Sirius dared not look over to Snape.

"As for the rest of you…I am disappointed," Dumbledore said sadly. "Bullying will not be tolerated at Hogwarts. With that said, Mr. Black, would you please stay for a moment? The rest of you are dismissed. Professor McGonagall will assign your punishment tomorrow morning."

Sirius gulped. Remus patted his shoulder once more, but neither James nor Peter would look at him. Never had his stomach squirmed as badly as it was flip-flopping now.

"…Sir?" Sirius asked as soon as the door to Dumbledore's office shut.

"You're not in trouble – well, in any more trouble," Professor Dumbledore assured him with a smile. "I just wanted to tell you that I am proud of you. We often speak of how Gryffindor is the house of bravery. It's become synonymous with Gryffindor. However, Mr. Black, speaking out against your friends requires a different kind of bravery, one that is often undervalued by our society. It's a type of bravery that very few have."

Sirius smiled sickly. "I just…I just remember watching James torment Snape and it just made me miserable. I spoke with a – a friend recently and he told me that it was easy to regret a lot of stuff when you get older. He told me to pay attention to things and catch them before they became regrets. I just…I saw what we were doing for the first time, you know? And I felt horrible, sir."

"Your friend sounds very wise," Dumbledore said gently. "Your professors have tried their hardest to teach that very lesson to their students. It is…difficult to learn that lesson so early in life. Indeed, I wish I myself had learned it sooner than I did. What did your friend say that made the difference?"

Sirius struggled to get the words out. It was not what Harry said, exactly, it was what he knew. How was he to tell the Headmaster that Harry was from the future? How was he to say that knowing his own fate made it easier to make a change?

"…He told me that Snape was human," Sirius settled on saying. "And we talked about my own family. And that Snape's family might be like mine. I dunno. It just…it made sense."

Dumbledore leaned forward, a concerned look masked by his steepled fingers. "And your family, Mr. Black? How is your life away from Hogwarts? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Sirius hastily shook his head. "No, sir. My family…they just don't like me very much. They tell me all the time how disappointing I am to them. They tell me how great my brother is and my friend made me realize I've been mistreating Regulus, too. I just…I just wish they loved me. I wish things were different."

Sirius ducked his head again, unable to believe that he had even shared that. Dumbledore did not say a word. He merely placed a supportive hand over Sirius' own resting on top of the desk.

"And my friends," Sirius snorted. "They've…they've been my family for so long and I – how do I tell them that things have changed? Remus, I think he understands. Remus has always been the responsible one. But James and Peter? They hate Snape. Snape's been just as horrible to us as we are to him, but…it's four on one and it needs to stop."

"It's a difficult proposition," Dumbledore said softly. "Remus Lupin has always been a mature boy for his age. Fate has forced him to be, unfortunately. However, he has lacked the courage to say anything against his friends for many of the reasons you just stated. He will stand beside you, I'm sure. James Potter and Peter Pettigrew are normal boys. They have both had relatively average childhoods and still have maturing to do before leaving Hogwarts. It will come."

Sirius toyed with the quill nearest him on the desk. "James and I have been butting heads, lately. He just says things without thinking. A few nights ago, I, er – well, I left the Common Room after curfew because he upset me."

Professor Dumbledore smiled at Sirius with humor. "Perfectly understandable. Continue."

"Well, I left and kind of…paced the seventh floor over by the tapestries. And then there was a door and – and that's how I was able to meet my friend."

Intrigue colored Professor Dumbledore's expression. "Ah…the Come and Go Room. The Room of Requirement. And it brought you to your…friend?"

Sirius winced. "Well…not quite. It took me home, but…not. There was a man in my living room that I did not know. He's the friend I'm referring to."

"…I see," Dumbledore said, even though he clearly did not. "And what is your friend's name?"

"Harry," Sirius said brightly. "He was surprised to see me, but he knew me. I asked him why he was there and he told me he lived there and we talked for a bit."

It was probably a bad thing that Professor Dumbledore looked puzzled, but Sirius could not help it. He had to tell _someone_ about Harry, right?

Who was he kidding? This was a horrible idea.

"We don't have to talk about it, though," Sirius added hastily. "It's just…"

"No, it's fine," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I apologize. You caught me off guard. Tell me, Sirius: Do you think you could visit Harry again if you chose to?"

Sirius blinked dazedly. "I mean…sure. It's a bit late, but he should be there."

Dumbledore stood, smoothening his beard for a moment before coming around his desk and offering a hand to Sirius. "Let us pay Harry a visit, then. I must admit that I am eager to speak with him."

"Uh…okay," Sirius agreed. Hopefully, Harry had no problem with this.

* * *

><p>Harry gulped down the last his glass of water greedily, sighing as he sat it down. The silence of the kitchen irked him.<p>

Harry had gone to the gym. There was a Muggle one quite close to Number Twelve, one he frequented fairly often. Working out had become an escape for him. It was something to _do_, to take up time, and to get away from being Harry Potter, The Savior of the Wizarding World. With all his free time off from being an Auror, he had to have some way to fill it all up.

Harry looked down at himself for a moment. He was not a male model by any means, but his body was in decent shape. That had to count for something, right?

God, he was so…bored. A shower, Harry supposed, and then another night of too many drinks.

Harry tossed his towel onto the kitchen table, but paused. Was that the front door?

"Harry! You home?"

Definitely the front door. Sirius was here.

"In the kitchen, Sirius!" Harry called out.

Sirius' head poked through the threshold, beaming. Harry smiled back lazily. The man who appeared behind Sirius had Harry bolting upright, however.

It was Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor," Harry caught himself saying. He shook his head. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

He looked exactly as Harry remembered, save the charred hand. Dumbledore smiled warmly, but there was a hard edge to it. Dumbledore's hand was resting on Sirius' shoulder. It took Harry a moment to realize why, and it was comical.

"I'm not going to hurt Sirius, Professor," Harry laughed. "Seriously. Would you like me to put my wand on the table?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly while Sirius looked confused. "It would put me at ease, yes. Thank you."

Harry could not help but chuckle, tossing his wand carelessly onto the table.

"So Sirius brought you through the Room of Requirement, eh?" Harry grinned. "You two caught me by surprise. I was just going up to take a shower. Please, come in properly."

Harry flicked a hand and the two chairs nearest the door skidded out. Harry plopped down in his own chair, wandlessly summoning a towel from the counter to wipe his face.

"Neat!" Sirius chirped, eagerly moving forward. Harry hid a grin in the towel at how cautious Dumbledore was behaving. In truth, Harry had done the wandless magic just to fuck with him.

"So," Dumbledore said neatly, sitting down at last. "Mr. Black here was telling me about his…meetings with you, Mr…?"

"Potter," Harry nodded. "Harry's fine, though."

"Alright then, Harry," Said Dumbledore. "Mr. Black told me of how he met you through the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts and I must admit that I was…concerned. I still am, as a matter of fact, because a student of mine meeting with a stranger is understandably worrisome, is it not?"

Harry nodded silently, unable to prevent a smile. Dumbledore continued on.

"And as the man responsible for Mr. Black's wellbeing, I am here to make sure of his safety. Who are you, Harry?"

This was so comical. Harry laughed again, holding a friendly hand out for Dumbledore to shake.

"I'm Harry Potter, the man who killed Voldemort. Nice to see you again, Professor."

Ah, the look on Dumbledore's face – it made everything worth it. Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, staring at Harry with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"But Lord Voldemort is…alive," Dumbledore murmured.

"Not here, he's not," Harry wagged an index finger. "If you'll allow me my wand for a second…_Accio_."

Harry summoned the same paper that he had shown Sirius last week. It dropped right in front of the Headmaster. Dumbledore snatched it off the table and adjusted his glasses. Harry shot Sirius an amused glance.

"1998…" Dumbledore whispered, looking up sharply. "That means that the Room of Requirement…"

"…Somehow dropped you two off in the future," Harry finished for him. "I'm the son of James Potter and now employed by the Ministry's Department of Law Enforcement as the Head Auror. It's currently the year 2005."

"Goodness," Dumbledore exclaimed. "So that makes you…?"

"Twenty-five," Harry said. "Killed Voldemort when I was seventeen. I'm sorry, I haven't offered either of you anything to drink. Can I get you both anything? Headmaster, perhaps a lemon drop or two?"

Dumbledore looked decidedly entertained at that. "It seems as if we spent some time together, Harry. There are not many brave enough to make that joke."

"Ha!" Chortled Harry. "Then most people don't know you well enough. Seriously, though. Tea? Water?"

"Water would be most generous, thank you," Dumbledore smiled. "Enjoying a glass of water from the future would leave me tickled."

Harry stood and walked over to grab three glasses.

"It's quite amazing that time and space allow us to be here, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore mused aloud. "Time-Turners such finicky, delicate pieces of magic and they only allow time travel in one direction. In fact, researchers of time travel have ruled that travel to the future would be impossible. The past gives us at least a variable to work off of. The future, they have ruled, is quite simply inaccessible."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "That makes plenty of sense if your objective is to travel through time. There are so many details in what the future holds that pinpointing the correct, real future is impossible. However, what if your objective is much more…tangible? Sirius? What did you say you were thinking about when you happened upon the room?"

"I was thinking about home," Sirius said, looking between the two adults. "I was thinking about not having one, but wanting one."

"And somehow, that dropped Sirius at my doorstep," Harry shrugged. "In reality, this is his home. He left me Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in his will. He was my godfather. He and I are family. How the Room chose here, though? I cannot tell you. As you said, there are so many variables to that outcome that the Room of Requirement must have made on its own. How it did so is a mystery."

"Hmm…" Professor Dumbledore muttered. "It's intriguing. Truly amazing. And not only that, but it brought us to the man who defeated Lord Voldemort. I have…so many questions. I fear I don't know where to begin."

"Well, I first defeated Voldemort when I was a year old," Harry muttered grimly. "My mother and father died protecting me and Voldemort's Killing Curse backfired. It gave me this scar on my forehead."

"Woah, you survived a Killing Curse?! You didn't tell me that!" Sirius exclaimed. Harry smiled weakly.

"Not because I did anything spectacular," Harry clarified. "Voldemort mucked it all up. The curse rebounded and ripped him from his body. It was thirteen years before he got his body back."

"…But he did get it back," Dumbledore stated. He nodded slowly. "That seems to indicate a certain…resilience that could not be obtained through normal means."

Harry shot the Headmaster a significant glance. "Voldemort did horrible things to obtain his…_resilience_. Whatever you're thinking, Professor Dumbledore, he did worse."

"I've had theories," Dumbledore said vaguely. "But nothing more. Lord Voldemort's physical appearance lends credit to my theories. Your words even more so."

"Well, you sound like you're on the right track," Harry sighed. He took pity on the teenager at the table. "Sirius, what we're discussing is something that you really are best not knowing. Voldemort is a monster. There is no redemption for what he's done to maintain his own immortality."

Sirius looked to the Headmaster who nodded in agreement. Sirius huffed.

"Fine," He said. Dumbledore smiled apologetically.

"What really interests me is that you've given Mr. Black some advice," Professor Dumbledore said. "And by all accounts, he has listened to you. What I am concerned about is if it will have any effects on your timeline."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Really? What advice did I give you, Sirius?"

"To be nicer to Snape," Sirius grunted. "I stopped James from hexing him."

"Really?! That's great!" Harry beamed. "I'm proud of you, Sirius. Seriously. That takes guts."

"…Thanks," Sirius mumbled, smiling nonetheless. Dumbledore looked pleased.

"Still, I have to wonder over the effects such words must have," Dumbledore continued. "Knowledge gained in advance must change the future, would it not?"

"Well I just told you some stuff about Voldemort," Harry argued. "And I told Sirius about his fate, my father's fate, Remus' son…none of that has changed anything."

"Amazing," Professor Dumbledore said. "Truly remarkable. So this information has done nothing at all to your present? Can Sirius and I venture forth into your world?"

"I doubt it," Harry muttered. "When Sirius opens the front door, the seventh floor corridor of Hogwarts is outside."

"And have you tried to follow Sirius through?"

Harry stalled.

"Harry said it probably would not let him through," Sirius told the Headmaster.

Professor Dumbledore nodded gently.

"But you've never tried?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Harry shook his head.

"No," Harry said. "…But I've watched Sirius leave. And when he leaves, I see Hogwarts. After he's gone, the door reveals my stoop and the rest of the world."

Harry ignored Sirius' look of shock in favor of watching Dumbledore rub his beard in thought.

"So theoretically…you could pass through."

Harry nodded; it was not a question.

"And your actions involving our present, your past…they do not influence your present, our future?"

"Not that we're aware of," Harry clarified.

"…Then perhaps you would like to join me in my office? We could talk about matters that may influence the future of our world."

Harry paused.

Did he want to? What would happen if he went through the door? Could he come back?

"You understand why I ask, do you not?" Professor Dumbledore prodded. "Speaking with someone experienced in fighting Lord Voldemort…you may be able to save hundreds, thousands that died in your time. It is an opportunity that I am quite reluctant to relinquish."

"No, I understand perfectly," Harry muttered dazedly. He hummed, thinking hard.

What was there to lose? He had no obligation to fight Voldemort one on one. He could just…help. It would certainly beat the boredom of sitting at home on suspension from the Auror Corps, right?

"You could meet my friends," Sirius smiled slightly. "You meet your mother, and help me save my brother. You could help Snape."

Harry looked up, meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

"You got a shower on the other side?" Harry asked. "If we're going to talk, I should get freshened up a bit."

* * *

><p><strong>Review if you liked it. Review if you hated it. Help me become a better writer. Thanks. See you soon.<strong>

**Brigade**


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